Five Kinds of Love (The True and the Crown Book 5)

by May Dawson

  “I think I’ve found the cure for that,” I say.

  But it’ll have to wait until we’ve gotten the shield and left Devlin—and his spies—behind.

  Mycroft, Cax and I cross the yard. Penny lopes at my feet. She doesn’t seem to mind her current incarnation as a dog, although she’s changed today; she’s in the form of a sleek black hound, with a narrow body and a whipping tail and a blocky head. I rest my hand on the back of her neck as the two of us move together.

  An unsettled feeling prickles down my spine; I can’t shake the feeling we’re being watched. I look over my shoulder, where Airren and Rian stand watchfully before they melt into the woods. They’ll be invisible from the road, but they can warn us if the owner returns or when Devlin shows up.

  We’ve got a good view of anyone coming or going.

  So why does this feel like a trap?

  The three of us cross the front porch. Whoever owns the house seems to collect wind chimes; there are dozens of them hanging from the ceiling, filling the air with a mixture of sounds: some of the chimes tingle and tink together, but others give off a low, murmuring sound as the wind brushes across them. Maybe it would be beautiful another day, but right now it just feels eerie.

  Cax kneels at the door, and Mycroft hands him tools as he works to undo all the locks. Using a mix of magic and tech, Cax makes short work of the locks.

  When he straightens, he turns the knob and pushes the door open, before making a showy little bow to Mycroft and me.

  “You weren’t sure you could get it, huh?” Mycroft asks, clapping his shoulder as he passes into the house first. “You’re always extra cocky when you weren’t sure you could make it.”

  Cax rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny it. I hide a smile at how well they know each other as I follow them into the house.

  The man who owns the house seems obsessed with antiquity, far beyond mere collecting.

  The room we’ve just stepped into has a soaring two-story ceiling, and skylights fill the room with sunlight, warming the marble floors underfoot. The walls are hung with ancient swords and shields that gleam brighter than I’ve seen in any museum, and what must be recreated tapestries because they look new.

  There’s an enormous fountain in the center of the room, and water bubbles steadily, trailing down a sculpture in the center of three bodies locked together in a passionate embrace. I stare at it, perplexed; it feels almost uncanny to see something like this after last night.

  Mycroft stops beside me, reading the inscription in Latin at the base of the fountain.

  “Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere?” he mutters. “Fanciful. If this had been the case, Camelot would never have gone up in flames.”

  “You really believe that story?” Cax is sweeping his hands across the wall, studying it carefully as if he’s looking for more alarms or sensors. He turns back to us, evidently satisfied, and crosses his arms over his chest. “It was obviously a cover-up. Blame the poor Queen for the fall of an entire kingdom. Bullshit.”

  Mycroft shrugs. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’d forgotten all the great Camelot conspiracy theories,” I say lightly. It’s one more thing to love about life in Avalon. The story of how we came to be, separated from Earthside, is cloaked in magic and mystery and myth.

  The three of us move quickly from room to room. The kitchen is ordinary enough, warm and homey, and we move through rooms filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Even the staircase to the second floor is lined with books.

  The second floor seems to be dedicated to his collection. We pass from one room to another of relics, searching as quickly as we can.

  When we reach the third door, it’s sealed, and there’s no handle in the door, just an indentation shaped almost like a key.

  “What can you do with this, Cax?” Mycroft demands. Hesitantly, he puts his eye to the indentation, as if he fears a trap. Worry jolts my stomach, but he looks away from it, unharmed, shaking his head. “It’s got a solid metal core, reinforced. Security hinges. It’ll take time to get the door off. But I can get to work on it.”

  “At least it’s promising,” I say. “Someone wants us to stay out for a reason, probably.”

  Cax picks through the table nearby, which is covered with old artifacts, then hoists a pair of brass doorknob connected by what looks like an elaborate metal puzzle. “I can put the doorknob back in. Just have to solve the puzzle first.”

  “This is totally normal for Earthside, right?” Mycroft frowns. “Puzzles?”

  Cax shrugs. “It isn’t exactly common, but I swear living on Earth drives people a little nuts. No offense, Tera.”

  He flashes me a bright smile before his attention returns to the puzzle.

  “No offense taken,” I say. “I do love you lot, after all. I must be a bit off.”

  Mycroft grins and wraps his arm around my waist, dropping a kiss in my hair, before the two of us move to join Cax and study the puzzle.

  It takes a few minutes to figure out the elaborate mechanism. I’m the one who notices that the tiny images carved into the mechanism represent things in the room; I find a key in the grandfather clock ticking steadily in the corner.

  Once I’ve found that, Mycroft checks under the base of the hour glass he’s spied on the table and finds the second key. We search a bit for the third until Mycroft reminds us that people used to use candles for time keeping, and Cax finds the third.

  As the third key goes in, Cax can furl the mechanism so the knob fits through the opening in the door. There’s a strange whirring sound, then a click.

  Mycroft holds his hand out as he moves toward the door, warning Cax to stop. “Something about this feels odd. Let me go first.”

  “You’re not the only one who can risk himself,” Cax reminds him. He shoulders open the door and goes in before Mycroft can stop him.

  Mycroft swears. But nothing has happened. Cax stands in the doorway, transfixed by wonder.

  In front of us is an incredible workshop. The scent of fresh-cut wood and the sharper smell of soddering iron hang in the air. The walls hold more bookcases full of relics, and the long row of tables at the center is scattered with all kinds of tools and equipment. No wonder Cax’s eyes are alight. This place is like a candy shop for him.

  “Here it is,” Mycroft says, moving forward to the table. He rakes his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, without even touching the shield that lays on the table in front of him. “We found it. Amazing.”

  Just then, Cax and Mycroft both touch their ears simultaneously. Airren’s voice is low in my ear too. We’ve got company.

  “Let’s move.” Mycroft grabs the shield.

  Then his muscles tense as he tries to lift it off the table. He struggles, but it seems to be too heavy to lift.

  Cax and I trade a skeptical look. Nothing seems to be too heavy for Mycroft to lift; certainly no shield.

  “A little help,” Mycroft says between gritted teeth.

  But even when Cax and I help, we can’t seem to lift it. The cold metal edge of the shield bites into my fingers as I strain, but the shield doesn’t go anywhere.

  “It must be attached to the table somehow,” Cax mutters, kneeling at the edge of the table even though it seems there’s no attachment between the two.

  Really? Devlin’s voice is a worm in my ear. It’s going to be a real pain in the ass trying to keep my men from murdering yours, Tera. I thought I told you to get out of here.

  “He’s here.” I tell Mycroft. Keep them out of our way for their sake, then.

  I can’t afford to go home empty-handed. I have to take care of my people.

  Devlin. We’ve fought together a whole bunch of times before—I don’t want to fight you now.

  You fought with the Fox. I’m not the Fox today. His voice is dry. I wish I could be him always, believe me.

  Devlin. Silence. I try again, feeling my heart skip with frustration. Devlin!

  No matter what else I try to say, Devlin doesn’t ans
wer anymore.

  Penny begins to make a low, desperate whining sound in the back of her throat. She runs to the door, as if she’s desperate for us all to get out of here.

  “We’re trying,” I tell her. “I don’t like it either.”

  Cax abruptly steps back from the shield and throws up his hands. “Could there be some kind of magic on the shield, even here?”

  “You mean like another puzzle to solve?” I race my hand over the engraved surface of the shield.

  “Or,” Mycroft says slowly, “Some of the magical items in the Arthurian stories had some kind of morality test. They could only be used by someone whose heart was pure.”

  “Well, last night kind of rules that out,” I mutter, half-teasing. “Sorry, guys.”

  “You’d think that the real test would be what we want to do with it.” Cax pats the shield, his lips twisting in amusement at himself as he addresses the shield. “Just so you know, we just want to seal the rips between the realms. Avalon is in danger right now. The entire fabric of our world is tearing.”

  Mycroft snorts at Cax’s discussion with the inanimate object. Then Cax pats the shield one more time, and it rocks on the table. We all exchange shocked glances.

  Mycroft grabs the shield without hesitation, and he easily lifts it from the table. Slinging it over his back by the straps, he says impatiently, “Well, let’s move.”

  “You aren’t even going to acknowledge I was right, huh?” Cax asks.

  “I know you’re not doing I-told-you-so’s when we’re in a time crunch with Vasiliks on our tails,” Mycroft shoots back.

  I lead the two of them out of the room, retracing our steps. “I don’t think that I-told-you-so’s are going to slow us down, Mycroft. He can say it while we get the shield to safety.”

  “Watch yourself, Blondie.” Mycroft’s low voice over my shoulder makes me smile.

  Together, the three of us hustle back through the house. As we leave the fountain behind and head for the door, the bubbling of the water fades behind us.

  And it’s replaced by the sizzle and pop of battle magic.

  Chapter 21

  When Mycroft, Cax and I head hastily out of the house, magic burns across the sky. Rian and Airren battle the Vasiliks. Devlin glances toward me, his hands full of crackling silver magic, and something flashes across his face.

  Right before he turns and flings the magic at us and it ripples out, slowly turning into an arm and long fingers that reach for the shield…

  “Stop!” A tall, balding man storms out of the house behind us. He brushes against my shoulder as he passes me.

  But I’d seen him drive off in the car half an hour before. For a second, I’m more confused than afraid.

  He holds out his hands, and magic crackles between his fingers. Everything stops. We’re suddenly surrounded by statues: Mycroft carrying the shield, Penny leaping forward with her front legs in mid-air, Cax drawing his wand out of his jacket, Devlin with his hands outthrust and a look on his stony face that I can’t read. They’re all frozen in time.

  Everyone has stopped except for Airren and me.

  I turn in a slow circle, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. This is incredibly powerful magic few people could do even in Avalon. But we’re not in Avalon anymore. Airren steps in front of me automatically, putting his body between me and the magician.

  But I don’t think we’re in danger. I touch the small of his back as I step to his left. I’m staying clear of his hand which holds his wand low to his side, but letting him know that I’m there, even though he’s fixed on the impossibly tall man who faces us.

  “Airren Penn,” the man asks, his voice exasperated, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Airren stares at him. “You know me?”

  “I think I’d recognize the child who is practically my great-great-great-great-great-god-child,” the man says. “Son of Arthur, child of the house Pendragon.”

  He reaches out and wrenches the shield from Mycroft’s back. Mycroft is still frozen in time, powerless to react.

  “Do you have any magic left at all?” He asks Airren. “Or did you waste it all in this exchange?”

  Airren eyes him warily.

  “Oh, you don’t trust your ancestors,” the magician says. “Fine.”

  “Are you… Arthur?”

  “Don’t they teach you kids history anymore?” he asks. “No, Arthur was left in Avalon during that first rip, when Avalon and England were severed. Which makes me… the incredibly powerful and immortal wizard stranded here…”

  He makes an impatient gesture like a teacher waiting for a student to spit out the answer.

  “Merlin,” Airren says.

  “Merlin,” the man confirms. “Now, why would you steal from Merlin? How stupid are you?”

  “We didn’t know it was you.” Airren looks to me, and I gaze back at him. We’re both at a loss.

  But Merlin is supposed to be one of the good guys.

  Or at least, he was fifteen hundred years ago.

  “To be fair, Arthur was pretty stupid as well,” Merlin mutters, as if he’s struck by his own thoughts. “But it didn’t hold him back in life.”

  “He’s pretty much considered a god in Avalon.” Airren says.

  “Well, gods are a lot less impressive to their friends.” Merlin gestures us inside. “For old time’s sake, come have tea with me. Your friends will be fine. Eventually. And you can explain all this to me.”

  “Why are you here?” I ask. “You said you’re stranded? Why don’t you just come home?”

  Merlin is also certainly considered a god in Avalon. His reception would be a lot warmer than mine.

  Although, maybe being a god would be even worse than being a villain. It’s certainly a lot more responsibility.

  Merlin gives me a long look. “You have Primus in your blood now, girl. You’ve been stranded too. Who are you?”

  The thought of carrying Earthside in my blood sends a shock through my belly. “Tera Donovan.”

  “Why didn’t you just go home?”

  “I wasn’t welcome.”

  “I’m not either.” His lips quirk up at the corners. “People prefer their myths and legends remain just that. Anyway, I promised I’d stay here until Arthur comes again, when Primus and Avalon are re-united.”

  That would change both worlds as we know them, immensely. Trying to imagine it makes my head hurt. “What’s…what’s the timeline like on that?”

  “It seems further distant with every year that passes. Time can be funny that way.” He gestures to the stools at the counter in his kitchen. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please.”

  He pours us both cups from a kettle that is instantly hot. I know this trick, but I don’t know how it works outside of Avalon.

  “You still have magic?” He’s been here for fifteen hundred years, I don’t know how his magic could still be working.

  He nods.

  “But there’s no magic here,” I protest.

  “There’s no magic here,” he mimics me. “Ridiculous. There’s magic everywhere, child.”

  “But everyone who comes here from Avalon, they have a little bank of magic for a while that comes with them and then it peters out…” I tell him the truth as I know it, curious if I’ve understood everything wrong.

  If I’d had magic in this world, my life here would have looked very different.

  “That’s what you believe? And yet, those fools out there are flinging the last of their magic at each other in an attempt to get this?” He hefts the shield in his hand. “When it’s not theirs to begin with?”

  “We need it to save Avalon,” Airren explains.

  “Oh, a boy on a quest. Your great-great-you-get-the-idea-great-grandfather would have been so proud.”

  We fill him in on our purpose.

  He gives Airren a hard look, and there’s something in that look that passes between them. I frown, wanting to understand, but I’m not going to ask questions now. The m
ost important thing is that we leave with the shield, and it feels to me like Merlin, for all of his muttering and sighing, understands our mission.

  “You don’t need to worry about the rest of the relics,” he says. “I have all of them. And my security is actually a bit better than you might believe…I let you steal the Shield, because I was so very curious what you’d do. It’s boring here.”

  “So come home,” I say. “Avalon needs you.”

  “I’ll come home when Earth and Avalon are knit together again,” he says. “Someday.”

  “I can’t imagine what that would look like,” I say.

  “Me either.” Merlin says. “But the universe is always shifting.”

  With that thought, he adds, “Take your friends and go. I’ll keep your enemies busy for a few hours before I release them.”

  Chapter 22

  We head straight for the portal. As we drive back, it begins to snow, big, soft flakes that swirl around the car.

  It’s warm in the car, though, and my men’s voices and laughter as they banter feels like a blanket I could wrap around myself.

  I stare out at the snow falling on the pines, then at the city streets where people are bundled up in their coats and where artificial signs glow through the frost. My nose bumps against the cool glass. Penny rests her head in my lap, and I pet her head absently between her ears. She sighs with contentment.

  I wish I had more time here. I wish I could see this world again, with my men. Maybe I misunderstood what it’s like here. Maybe I just saw one, awful part but this world is more complicated than that.

  If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I came home to Avalon, it’s that perspective is the most complicated thing. We find what we’re searching for, for better or worse.

  I found the ghosts of my parents. I found my magic again, in spades.

  And I found love.

  Now the world looks different than it did when I was just a girl, alone and lost in a foreign world.

  We head deep into the city, and I’m surprised when we park outside a shop that advertises Tarot Cards-Fortunes Read under a glowing purple eye. “I thought we’d have to trek back down the mountain.”